Melodious Plot
by SarahZahde
Summary: A Mujhse Dosti Karoge (MDK) fic. The exchange of e-mails between Pooja and Raj in those three intervening months. Two-shot. T for reference to thoughts of suicide.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a two-shot, some e-mails between Pooja and Raj during that three month break.**

**Trigger Warning: Cutting, Depression**

* * *

Dear Pooja,

It feels odd to be right back to writing you e-mails again after all that happened last week. But it feels like a habit, like if I don't talk to you then I just won't be able to sleep.

Most of me just wants to tell you how much I love you and that I simply can't marry Tina. But since we've sworn that issue away for now, I promise not to bring it up. Or at least, I'll try. For the sake of our friendship.

What have you been wanting to tell me that you couldn't before? You know, things that you had to pretend were different because you weren't actually Tina. Or just things that you didn't want to tell me about-boyfriends, secrets, all of that. As far as I remember I've told you all of the significant things that have happened to me over these past 15 years, but I'll let you know if I remember anything. I feel like I know you so well already-but do I? More than anything, I want you to never hold back your feelings when you're around me (or when you're writing to me). Friends should never have to hide. The time for hiding between us is past.

All my love,

Raj

* * *

Dear Raj,

You're right. As soon as I walked into my room today I automatically went over to my computer and opened Tina's e-mail, the one that I only use for you (well, and a Neopets account, but that was an extremely short phase. But you know about that). Old habits die hard, huh?

What you don't know is that you saved my life once. Remember when Tina's mom died? My mother had been close to hers, so we basically took Tina in, and in a lot of ways we became sisters. But I started to feel a little bit like Tina was the more favorited daughter. I'm used to giving things to Tina, I'm not selfish enough to object when a friend is in need. But as we got into our teenage years, it hurt more and more that I felt I couldn't confide in my mother… and even to you, my best friend.

I remember one night when I was maybe 14 or 15. I was crying about something, mostly about how lonely I felt. I had been thinking a lot recently about how I wished I could just fall asleep and never wake up, and wondered again and again exactly how many people would be affected if I disappeared. If I, well, died.

It's hard to be logical when you're a teenage girl, you know? It's a little embarrassing, maybe, that I was getting so low as to consider cutting myself. In the middle of the night I snuck downstairs and got a knife from the kitchen drawer, then snuck back up to my room. The computer screen was still lit up, it was the only thing lighting up the entirety of my room. I sat on my bed and stared at the little knife, weighing in my mind the pros and cons of cutting my wrist open. If I succeeded and died, then my parents would be sorry. If I didn't, then they would send me to the hospital and possibly never trust me again. If I succeeded, I could finally leave without any more worrying. If I didn't, then at least they would pay attention to me.

But I'm going into much detail now. This is in the long past, nearly ten years ago, right? Anyway, as I was sitting there, an e-mail from you suddenly came up. India's a few hours ahead of London, so it would've been late evening for you. I thank God that you decided to write to me that night, because I went over to the computer and was reminded suddenly that if I died or was even hurt, at least one person in the world would be deeply hurt as well-and might not ever know what had happened to me. He might fret for weeks before finally finding Tina's number and discovering at long last that he had been e-mailing the wrong person this whole time.

It was the thought of you that made me run back downstairs and put the knife back. Because I knew that someday you might need a friend, and I was the one who knew you best. I would have to be there for you. Since then, of course, I've found other reasons for living, but you were my turning point, Raj.

That's mostly the worst secret that I've kept from you, and now that it's so long ago it feels safe to confess it to you. I'm positive that Tina's never felt so depressed she wanted to die, which only proves that she's a stronger person and likely more fit to be someone's wife.

How is work going? Have my mother and Tina talked your ear off about shaadi preparations yet? I hope your website launch is going well. Sorry to be a bit depressing this letter, it's just so odd to be talking to you under my own name.

Your friend,

Pooja

PS If I had ever had a boyfriend I would have told you, silly.


	2. Chapter 2

Pooja-

Screw work and wedding prep! Why didn't you tell me you felt that way?! Reading your e-mails from around that time, I could tell something was a little off with you. If I had known it was something so severe I would have a) sent you to a counselor so you could stop with this madness and b) flown to India immediately so that I could hold you every night and stop you from thinking those things in the first place. I wish that I could fly there now.

...And then I remembered that if I saw you in real life I would be reminded again that I can't have you. That hurts almost as much as knowing you might not have been here at all.

There's a copy of Love Story sitting over on my shelf, and I had to think for a moment why I even liked that book. We talked about how terribly romantic it was, and maybe it was appealing that Jenny and Oliver loved each other so much. But I've decided now that I hate the ending. Jenny shouldn't have died. There's no real reason that Oliver had to be all alone at the end, it's just that the author decided that he had to be, to make it an interesting story.

What if you died, Pooja? Jenny and Oliver lived a lifetime in those few months of marriage. If you denied me those few months before you died, I wouldn't be strong enough to go on.

And you're wrong about Tina making a better wife. Strength isn't something you come by naturally, it's something you have to fight for. Apparently that's how love is, too.

Love,

Raj

* * *

Raj,

A few days of thinking we could be together will have to suffice.

And let's not talk about death. I'm sorry I brought it up.

-Pooja

* * *

Pooja,

Love means never having to say you're sorry.

Love, Raj

* * *

Raj,

I don't love you.

-Pooja

* * *

Pooja,

You're lying.

Love, Raj

* * *

Pooja,

Friends don't give each other the silent treatment. Mujhse dosti karoge? :)

Love, Raj

* * *

Raj,

I'm sorry. I was busy.

-Pooja

* * *

Pooja,

Stop lying. And do I really have to quote "Love Story" again?

The website launch went well. Yes, your mother has called me about the wedding and engagement plans, but honestly it's been more of Tina. I would rather hear _your _voice. Won't you call me some time? It's driving me mad, not being able to see your face. And those two weeks that you didn't write me made me snappy with Tina. Remind me to apologize to her later.

Still love you,

Raj

* * *

Raj,

Don't forget to apologize to Tina. :)

But in all seriousness, you have to learn to live without talking to me. There are two months and one week until you see me again. I think we should stop these e-mails until then.

If we try to continue this friendship so intimately, then we'll only end up hurting Tina. And each other.

-Pooja

* * *

Pooja,

If I tried to deny that I love you, I would be lying. But I hate you as well. This is madness, soniya.

But if you really want to put this even further to the test, then I won't e-mail you for the next two months and six days. Fifteen years of falling in love with you isn't going to fade away in just that short time. That's why I know you still love me, even though you think not saying it will convince me otherwise.

You'd better find a husband. Putting off telling Tina until the day we're supposed to get married will only deepen the blow.

All of my love,

Raj


End file.
